


Nothing You Can Do To Me

by Outofangband



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Non-Consensual Touching, Psychological Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-04-24 10:50:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 16,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14353947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Outofangband/pseuds/Outofangband
Summary: Dark AU. Aragorn and Arwen wish to spend time in Imladris before returning to Gondor as king. Legolas, and Gimli accompany him and there is danger lurking in the quiet wilderness outside Elrond’s Last Homely House. Gimli and Legolas’ newfound friendship will be brutally tested when they stumble into the web of an old villain. Alternate timeline where Elrond, Galadriel, and Gandalf have not yet sailed. (I need them, for now). Warning for DARK content in later chapters. I will post individual warnings at the beginning of chapters where they apply. If you have questions or concerns about future content, please feel free to comment or message me.





	1. One Year Later

       Imladris had remained virtually unchanged in the months Aragorn had been gone. Indeed, Lord Elrond stood on the steps waiting to greet the weary travelers, much as he did when the Fellowship first departed his valley so long ago. As their three horses tread slowly up the path, (Gimli and Legolas still rode Arod together; “Horses are devious creatures. And as it was the elf who insists on me riding them, then it will be him who falls first when the accursed beast tosses us off. No need for you to get hurt,” Gimli had assured the two men as Legolas attempted to help him up onto Arod) Faramir was already starting to marvel at the beauty of his surroundings. He could find no words but his gently amazed smile as he looked around added to the almost dreamy serenity that Aragorn felt; riding along the barely worn path, leaves falling slowly to the ground on all sides, his foster father and mentor a pillar of stability and wisdom ahead of them in the fading evening light.

It was Legolas of course, who shattered this illusion though he at least had the decency to bring Aragorn back to the present with cheer in his voice.

“Gimli! Wake up. We are here!” turning gracefully on Arod’s back, the elf shook his companion gently. The dwarf grunted and raised his head skeptically. The humans dismounted while Legolas helped Gimli down. Two dark haired elves approached with a quick gesture of respect to Aragorn, then led the horses away. Elrond had descended the steps, his grey cloak trailing behind him yet seeming to never touch the ground. Temporarily disregarding his usual etiquette, Elrond only nodded briefly at his visitors before placing his hands on the shoulders of his foster son. They exchanged a few whispered greetings unheard by all except Legolas who looked away, pretending to have lost his sharp hearing for the moment. After the elven lord was satisfied that the future king was unhurt and properly guilty for his failure to exchange proper correspondence with him in the few months following the end of the war, Elrond released him and turned to the others.

“ _Suilad_ ,” said Faramir, bowing his head and glancing briefly at Aragorn for confirmation that he had uttered the correct word. Lord Elrond pretended not to notice and smiled kindly at the young man.

“ _Mae tollen_ , Faramir of Gondor, _a_ _Mae athollen_ , Gimli, son of Gloin, and Legolas Thranduilion.” He shook hands with Faramir and Gimli, (who was still too sleepy to remember that he had declared the year before to never offer a hand in friendship to any elf, ever), and embraced Legolas. He had known him since he was an elfling, brought by his wary father to spend time in the safety of his valley. It was the beginning of the darkness that began to spread through the Greenwood and already Elrond could see the toll it had taken on Thranduil for never before had the Lord of Imladris been so pained by the harsh words of another. When the King of Mirkwood was weighed down with sorrow he tended to inflict his barbs on others and Elrond, with his seemingly endless patience and refusal to rise to any bait, was often the recipient of these barbs.

Despite this less than becoming trait, however, never was his anger directed at his young son. Thranduil may have been capable of great bitterness and temper but he at least had the dignity to release it only on those who could choose to snap back. Elrond had never seen him speak harshly to Legolas and so, despite his disapproval of Thranduil’s grudges and mistrust of even close allies, the Lord of Imladris knew it was partly because of his father’s gentleness towards him which allowed Legolas to remain so vibrant and full of wonder even when his home was shadowed under the Fortress of Sauron himself.

      In temperment, Legolas was the opposite. He rarely angered, throwing harsh words only under great stress or exhaustion. Unlike his father, he would not, or could not distinguish between those it was safe to antagonize and those he should know better than to. Legolas would speak to a king and a peasant in similar tones and while his bright, earnest nature endeared him to many, it also made the world around him more difficult to navigate. He seemed truly surprised when first encountering men who refused to act with reason, even when it put their own lives at risk. It had taken him time to understand that the mere ability to speak and converse with others did not ensure clarity of mind nor heart. For despite his years as a warrior and a witness to the ruin of the Dark Lord, Elrond sensed that Legolas was innocent in many ways to the nature of malice and evil.

      Shaking his head at his own worried musings, Elrond led the tired company inside. There would be time later to inquire into each members understanding of the world. For now, rest and food were needed. Gimli for one seemed likely to collapse at any given moment. He was gripping Legolas’ cloak for support as they climbed up the pristine white steps, and muttering curses all the while.

**...**

       The room was soft and dark, the windows opened slightly to allow a gentle breeze as well for Legolas to balance precariously on the sill, legs swung over and head tilted back for a clear view of the stars. At the opposite side of the room, as far away from the cool air as he could manage, Gimli lay sprawled, half asleep on the elegant maple wood bed. He knew it was maple because Legolas had treated him to an eight minute lesson on how elves crafted furniture and other products out of wood without harming the trees. By now, Gimli had forgotten most of it but was contented to fall asleep listening to the soft lilting voice of his friend describing one of the night time birds he was seeing. An unknown time later, that same voice rose out of the darkness,

      “Gimli?” Without fully opening his eyes, Gimli turned.

“Yes, Legolas?”

“Are you in pain?” the elf asked. It took a moment for Gimli to understand the question; earlier that day, Gimli had fallen, earning himself a vicious purple bruise he had spent most of the morning complaining about.

“No, Legolas.” The dwarf sensed, rather than saw, his friend nod.

A moment later, “Gimli?”

“Yes, Legolas?”

“Did I wake you?”

“No.” Instead of being annoyed, Gimli found himself comforted by their gentle back and forth not uncommon after long days of travel. Sometimes, it would last until there was lack of response from one or the other when they finally drifted off into sleep.

“Gimli?” Off in the gloomy distance of impending sleep, Gimli heard the window close softly as Legolas leapt down and returned to his own bed.

“Yes, Legolas?”

“I am pleased you came with me to Imladris.”

“Me too, Lad,” Gimli mumbled and the room was silent until fragments of an old lament drifted up from the elf, singing of a murky tragedy deep in his dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sindarin translations:  
> Suilad is 'Greetings'  
> Mae tollen a Mae athollen is 'Welcome and welcome back'


	2. Chapter 2

“Gimli!” The dwarf rolled over sleepily to face the shining phantom so rudely interrupting his dreaming. 

“Go away, Legolas,” he grumbled without opening his eyes, “Find someone else to watch the sun rise. There are dozens of nice elves here to choose from.”

“Gimli!” Legolas sounded scandalized, “The sun has risen, lazy dwarf! She is above the forest and the garden. She has risen faster than you, once again.” 

Gimli sat up to say something rude back but by the time his eyes had focused and he had disentangled himself from the bedsheets and swung onto the floor, the elf was gone. Gimli blinked.  _ How that silly creature can act that way in the morning is beyond me or any sane being _ the dwarf thought, the fond smile on his face betraying his irritated thoughts,  _ he is still as a picture and then as lively as the wind.  _

Twenty minutes later, Gimli and Legolas were at the breakfast table bickering good naturedly about their plans for the day. 

“I’ve already been here,” Gimli was saying, “I don’t need a tour.”

“You scarcely left your room,” Legolas countered, “You had no reason nor desire to explore but now the occasion is merry and there is much I can show you. You may rest for awhile if you wish as you are still wary from our travels but I have found that mere hours in the House of Lord Elrond brings peace I could not find after many nights sleep. When you have found your strength again, we can explore.” 

Gimli found himself agreeing. Indeed, even after one night in the strange elven valley, he was already feeling relief for his months of battle sore bones. He would never admit this, of course, but there was something about Imladris that made him more agreeable and cheerful than he was used to. What else could explain his willingness to explore the valley with the overly excitable elf?

For the time though, he would take up Legolas’ first offer and rest. Soon after breakfast, he found a sturdy yet comfortable chair and reclined in it, content to watch Legolas and Aragorn engage in a series of grappling matches. The dwarf could not quite figure out who the victor of each round was, as there didn’t seem to be any clear rules. Every so often, one of the two would laugh, not maliciously at the other, until they were once again brought down to the ground. It was a highly amusing pastime. 

Around noon, the elf and human returned, each smudged with dirt and grinning brightly. Legolas sauntered over to Gimli and sat perched on the arm of the broad chair. 

“I promised Lord Elrond I would discuss ‘my future’ with him over lunch,” Aragorn said, shaking his head at his foster father, “Try not to kill each other or burn down the guest house.”

Legolas grinned, “Yes, Estel. Leave nothing out. Tell Lord Elrond how you will be spending the next week in debt to me after…”

“A mere technicality!” Aragorn said firmly, running out of the room before the elf could argue. Legolas turned his mirth now to Gimli.

“Have you recovered yet, dozy dwarf?” 

“From the journey, yes, but it will be some time before I have rested enough to endure another trip with you, crazy elf.” 

Legolas sighed dramatically. “Then I shall remain here until you feel ready.” He folded one leg inward so he was dangling half off the chair, his head against the back. 

Gimli scowled at him, only causing the elf to laugh merrily, “How shall I recover from you when you will not leave me alone?” 

“I will not speak a word,” Legolas promised. Gimli groaned. The elf had already begun to sway slightly, presumably to some song in his head. Gimli knew it was only a matter of time before Legolas started humming it… 

“Oh alright!” the dwarf exclaimed, “Just give me an hour and we’ll go tramping through the wilderness or whatever you are planning.” Legolas grinned and hopped off the chair. Gimli decided to savor every last second of his hour of rest. Mahal knows what he would get up to in the woods with that foolish elf! 

The early afternoon was cloudy but bright. Gimli only needed a light cloak and Legolas needed none at all. As the two strolled along the wooded path, (well, Legolas bounded and Gimli did indeed tramp), the atmosphere was serene enough that conversation between them was cheerfully absent. Legolas had started humming a soft tune shortly after the two left the Guest house and it was a testament to Gimli’s sense of wellbeing and comfort that he remained uncritical of and unbothered by his companion’s song. 

The forest outside Imladris was light and airy, and vibrantly green in the early springtime. Coils of mist hung around the boots of the two friends as they continued on. After an half hour walk, Gimli and Legolas lay sprawled under an apple tree content to lie in the peaceful green of the woods for a moment before returning back to Imladris. The two spoke pleasantly under the bright chirping of birds above them. 

“Did I not tell you of the beauty to be found here, Gimli?”

“You did indeed tell me, Elf. Several times in fact. However, as much as it pains me to admit it, you were not entirely wrong. I am not fond of woods, as you well know but this is a nice place.”

“I do know that you do not love the forest as I do, Gimli. I thank you for accompanying me here. Whether I walk here in solitude or with another, I am comforted by the peace and heartened by the sights but I feel more merry as I am with you. Mere months ago, I could not promise I would ever return here and I am very glad we both did.” 

Gimli was touched by Legolas’ words. Indeed, he had been thinking similarly when Legolas first asked him his opinion of the place.  _ Nice but better because I’m with you _ . When he responded however, he did so teasingly and thus, it did not seem the right moment to confide his gratitude for their friendship. 

“I am certainly happier to be here with you, Legolas.” The use of the elf’s full name was a signifier of solemnity and both smiled. 

Legolas sighed peacefully. Gimli, too was starting to tire.

“What will you do when you return to Minas Tirith. Are not your kin in the Ered Luin coming to assist in the rebuilding?”

“They are. Miners, smiths, stone masons. This will be the first large project we have had for quite some time. What of your people?”

“My father and much of my people are occupied with the restoration of Lasgalen. Now that Sauron has faded and Dol Guldur is no longer a hiding place for his wretched followers, the evil that has permeated the forest of my people is lifting. There is still much to be done, however. Trees need to be healed, there is life to be sewn where there once was decay, we must be rid of the…”

He trailed off. Gimli waited for a moment as it was not entirely uncommon for the elf to become distracted by a bird or other sight that caught his fancy, even in mid sentence. When he didn’t finish in a minute, however, Gimli reluctantly pulled himself off the ground to look and was startled to recognize the eerie opened eyed sleep of the elves on his friend’s face. 

“Legolas,” he called with no response. There was no real reason to be worried, however. What could happen here, so close to the Last Homely House? The birds were still chirping after all, and night was not to fall for some time. Gimli settled back down. Who knew why Legolas had chosen such a moment to fall asleep? Elves were strange. Closing his eyes, Gimli was quite content following suit. 


	3. Chapter 3

“There you two are.” The voice of Aragorn above them made both Legolas and Gimli stir. The sun had seemed to come out while the two of them slept and the grass they lay on was warm. Legolas rolled over like a cat, ignoring Aragorn’s snickers before sitting.   
“We’ve been looking for you for awhile,” he continued when he was certain his friends were awake and listening, “It is almost dinner.” It took the elf and dwarf a moment to remember where they were and why but they recovered quickly and, as it was early evening, happily followed Aragorn and Faramir back to the guest house.   
Dinner that night was somewhat quieter though Aragorn was ready and willing to laugh at Legolas and Gimli for being discovered fast asleep in the woods. Neither of them seemed too concerned with rebutting but other than this strange lack of argumentativeness all was well at the table.   
Despite their long rest in the woods, both Gimli and Legolas retired not much later than was typical for them. The elf even abandoned his usual routine of singing in the window for bed, and Gimli couldn’t help but to worry slightly.   
“Who are you and what have you done with Legolas Greenleaf?” he demanded.  
“I have told you before, Gimli,” the elf murmured, as he curled up under the patchwork quilt, “My name is not Legolas Greenleaf. It is simply Legolas. It is from an older Silvan tongue and means greenleaf. I do not know why you ask but I assure you, Legolas is who I remain.”  
Gimli sighed. Why in the good name of Mahal did his friend have to be so long winded when the dwarf merely required a sentence long response.   
“I was just wondering why you weren’t singing to the stars or the birds or whatever you usually do at night. And the Lady Galadriel called you Legolas Greenleaf.”  
“I am tired, Gimli. I will sing to the sun when she rises. The birds will be in the sky more abundantly than they will be tonight. Lady Galadriel called me thus as she wanted to remind me again of my connection to the forest. Which you would do well to respect if you wish to honor the Lady.”  
“I will think on that,” said Gimli, “But it is more likely that she was humoring you. She is very smart after all and smart beings like her know better than to argue with you when you are in so entranced by your trees.”   
“Good night, mellon nin,” Legolas murmured, using one of the few Sindarin phrases Gimli liked to hear.   
“Good night, Legolas...Greenleaf,” the dwarf said, smiling into his pillow as he pictured the elf’s sleepily indignant face.   
Gimli awoke to a chill creeping into his dreams. Sitting up, he realized that the cold was not just there. The window in the small room was open and the harsh winds of the early springtime were allowed untethered access. Damn that elf he thought as he walked over to shut it, prepared to shout down under the window to where he assumed Legolas to be sitting. Looking out, however, Gimli could see no sign of him and it wasn’t until the window was shut and Gimli returned to bed that the quiet, even sounds of Legolas’ breathing alerted the dwarf to the fact that his friend was still in bed. Unnerved and more than a little annoyed by his false assumption, Gimli shook Legolas’ shoulder until his open eyed gaze became focused on the dwarf’s face.   
“Gimli!” Legolas whispered, concern in his voice, “Are you hurt?”  
“No, you fool,” the dwarf hissed, “Just curious as to why you opened the damned window when you’re not even sitting in it! It’s freezing in here in case you were unaware!”  
“I was unaware, Gimli,” said Legolas, primly, “And I am confused as to what you speak of. I did not open the window. I do not feel the cold as you do but I have endured much of your complaints in these last few months. I would not leave the window open without your leave.”   
Gimli scrutinized his friend’s face in the dark. He seemed to be telling the truth. Gimli had never actually heard him utter a lie. The occasional, obviously sarcastic remark, yes but never had he seen the elf attempt to deceive him or another.   
“Well?” Gimli demanded after a moment.   
“Possibly Estel. Or one of the twins. I did not lock the window before sleep and it is likely it can be opened from the outside. It is closed now and I would like to return to sleep. Good night.”  
With that, Legolas laid his head down and allowed his eyes to drift away from Gimli. Not altogether reassured but too tired to continue to conversation, Gimli returned to his own bed. Unlike his companion, however, he found it difficult to sleep quickly. The dwarf was not given to sudden superstitions or fear without proof but he couldn’t seem to shake the dreadful feeling that something escaped the notice of himself or Legolas. Something staring at them in the darkness that they had ignored. With a sigh, Gimli turned over so he was facing Legolas. He only hoped it would be gone in the morning. 

Whether it was or not Gimli wouldn’t know as when he woke up there were more pressing issues. Namely, their present location. Gimli sat up in bed, only to realize he wasn’t in bed. The dwarf was annoyed and confused to find himself on the cold stone floor. For a hazy second, he wondered if he had fallen at some point in the night but as his vision cleared he realized with a rising dread that he was not in Imladris. Despite his lack of knowledge about the elven valley, he was certain that Lord Elrond would never allow such a space as long as he ruled; for Legolas and Gimli were in a prison cell. And that, the dwarf thought bitterly as he began to survey his surroundings, seemed too generous of a description. It seemed hardly three by six paces, there was nothing on the floor except him, Legolas, (who seemed to still be sleeping), and the two chains that held one of each their wrists to the wall.   
Later, Gimli would not remember very clearly the first few minutes of consciousness after waking up. He was certain he cursed a lot, at himself, at the wall, the silent, empty corridor outside their cell, and at Legolas until the elf finally begun to awaken; he, too, was dazed and confused but seemed unhurt. He knew no better than Gimli what had become of the two of them.   
“How do you fare?” was the first thing Legolas said once he had become aware of their unfortunate predicament.   
“I am not injured,” Gimli said, “But I am sore and stiff. How are you?”  
“I feel no pain,” the elf said carefully, almost to himself. “but my thoughts are muffled as though I have not rested for days. I fear my movements are slowed.”  
Gimli sighed, “It sounds like we’ve been dosed, Lad.” Legolas stared blankly at him and it took the dwarf a moment to realize that his companion was unfamiliar with the term he had used. His banter with the elf came so naturally that it was sometimes forgotten that when Legolas arrived in Imladris before the War of the Ring, his knowledge of the common tongue was rudimentary at best. He was a very fast learner and between the seemingly non stop storytelling of the halflings and Gandalf’s patient instruction, (something the elf had only recently confessed to him), Legolas spoke the language of men quite eloquently, albeit sometimes with too many descriptives. Idioms and slangs, however, were not well known to him as, (something else he had only recently confessed), he was often too embarrassed to ask for clarification when speaking with humans other than Aragorn, Faramir, and Gimli, whose teasing he was more than used to.   
“We’ve been drugged,” Gimli tried to clarify, “Given something to make us sleep. I’d reckon something pretty strong, too. It takes a lot to knock out a dwarf.”   
Legolas nodded slowly, “You mean a draught? Füme-nen?” Legolas asked, “How did we consume such a thing? We have only eaten with Lord Elrond and Estel.”  
“I don’t know what the words you used meant, but yes, I suppose like a draught. As for how it was given, I don’t know any better than you, Lad.”  
Legolas nodded again, “Who? Who would have the means or the reason to keep us here?”   
“I don’t know that either,” Gimli said, trying not to get too annoyed, “I don’t know if I want to find out.”  
“I fear we must,” said Legolas grimly and there was the strange look in his eyes that Gimli had come to recognize as meaning the elf had become aware of something beyond the senses of mortals, “There is a power in these walls that draws nigh to us.” He closed his eyes and rested his chin against his chest as though listening, “Nay...nay it can not be. Fain Ithron. Ae, Gimli!”  
“What is it, Legolas? Who is coming?” Gimli tried the chain on his wrist again, attempting to move closer to the elf, to shake or grab him he did not know.   
To Gimli’s horror, Legolas began shaking violently. His head fell back against the wall behind him with such force the dwarf winced. Legolas seemed to be having a fit of some sort. Could elves have those? Gimli didn’t know. He felt utterly helpless. His friend was in such distress so close by and yet nothing could be done. Gimli could not even reach out to hold the elf’s hand for comfort.   
Mercifully, it ended within moments but Legolas was left nearly breathless with exertion and could not articulate to Gimli what had happened. He fell into his strange reverie minutes later leaving the dwarf frightened and with no idea who or what the elf sensed was coming.   
At first Gimli thought he was imagining something. As much as he loathed to admit it, his own hearing was poor by itself and abysmal compared to his elven companion. Thus, when he became aware of a soft patting somewhere far down the corridor, he could realistically hold onto hope that it was only in his agitated imaginings. As the sounds became more pronounced however, it became clear to the dwarf that someone was indeed walking towards them. They seemed to come painfully, tauntingly slowly giving Gimli entire fear filled minutes to wonder who it was and what on Arda he could do. From his position against the wall, he couldn’t see the cloaked figure approach his cell but seconds later, the dwarf saw who it was who stood before him.


	4. Chapter 4

Pale, gaunt, yet with a deceptive strength, garbed in blindingly white robes; Gimli and Legolas had spent several awful hours in the presence of this man more than three months before when he had attempted to manipulate the late King Theoden into surrendering free reign of Rohan. Saruman the White, a stark contrast to the faceless horror that had been Sauron yet the the cause of countless acts of evil all under the guise of counselor to the free people of the West. 

The cell door was opened and Saruman entered. Not sensing a better option, Gimli went for the offensive, “What in the name of Mahal is this, Wizard?” he leaned forward as best he could, “How dare you keep us here!” 

Saruman smiled, a thin cold thing Gimli had not been able to closely observe during the negotiations at Isengard, “Calm yourself, Gimli, son of Gloin. How do you propose I answer your questions if you continue to shout. And, you do not want to wake up the elf, do you? He seems to need more rest.” At these words, Gimli looked over at Legolas, before quickly looking back at his opponent.  _ Never let your enemy know what they can use against you  _ he had been taught time and time again. It seemed too later, however for the Istar had clearly noticed the dwarf’s concern.

“Do not fear for him yet,” Saruman drawled, snapping Gimli’s thoughts back to the present, “He will be safe as long as you both remain civil. I must admit my surprise, however. A dwarf looking to protect one of the Firstborn. Arda has certainly changed but this is…odd.”  _ You WILL not use Legolas against me _ Gimli thought with newfound resolve. 

“Any dwarf with honor would worry for another in your clutches, Saruman,” Gimli said, “No matter their race. The elf is clearly weak, as you said.”

Saruman hummed with interest as Gimli’s heart pounded, unsure if he had been believed, “Tell me about him.”

_ NO!  _ Gimli thought, but said, levely, “I do not know what I can tell you. He is from Lasgalen, alright with a bow, typical wood elf.”

Saruman seemed to stand straighter, “You will not lie to me, Son of Gloin. I know he was one of the nine walkers along with you. I saw you both at the Orthanc with Mithrandir.”

“I did not try to deny that he was a member of the Fellowship,” said Gimli, trying not to look at Legolas who was now blinking repeatedly, seeming to stir again, “But I do not know much about him. No more than the halflings and certainly no more than the King.” 

“Hmmm,” mused the wizard, and, to Gimli’s amazement, he turned to go “Well, I will think upon the little you have given me. Do not be so quick to defend him the next time. He is, after all, the reason you are here.” The cell door slammed and the soft sounds of footsteps retreating echoed in the hall. 

_ The reason I’m here _ Gimli raged to himself,  _ Legolas might be the strangest being I’ve met but it will take more than petty wordplay to make this dwarf betray his best friend. Do your worst _ . Despite the quiet of the cell and the hall, Gimli couldn't help but to imagine, (or at least, he hoped it was simply imagine), the cold, cruel voice of Saruman responding,  _ I intend to.  _

Legolas woke up slowly once the Istar had gone. His eyes darted fearfully from Gimli to the locked door. Gimli nodded to him, knowing what the elf was thinking.

“It’s him,” he said, “It’s Saruman.” Legolas nodded back.

“Tis what I feared,” the elf murmured, leaning back, “I am sorry you had to face him alone, Gimli. I do not know what has come over me.” Gimli laughed, bitterly. 

“That wasn’t your fault, Lad. I saw what Saruman did to you. I don’t know what it was but you certainly didn’t drop into sleep because you wanted to.” Legolas didn’t look reassured but Gimli hadn’t expected him to. 

“Did he reveal anything of our plight to you?” 

“No,” said Gimli, only somewhat truthfully, “Damned wizard only asked about the fellowship. I don’t think he really wanted to know, seemed he was setting something up… I don’t really know. He gave us bloody nothing useful.”

The elf looked puzzled. “The Fellowship? Did he ask of the periannath? Surely he knows there is nothing he can do to them.”

“Not them,” Gimli said and Legolas didn’t press him for more. Slightly heartened by Legolas’ awakening, the dwarf gave his companion a small smile.

“Lord Elrond probably knows we’re gone by now. And this isn’t wartimes anymore, Lad. There aren’t a million other tasks to be done. Once they realize we’re in trouble, they’ll do what they can to look for us.” The elf smiled faintly back.

“I will not lose hope,” he murmured. 

“Good Elf,” said Gimli. Legolas gave him a slightly appraising look. It was with an unpleasant jolt that Gimli remembered just how young Legolas was. In battle and in banter, they were equals and the last time he had scene the elf truly afraid, (in the dark mines of Moria), he was too consumed with the bitter anger of his father to exercise much compassion but now, despite the many more centuries Legolas had lived, Gimli felt that he should take on the role of protector. There was no need to tell Legolas this, of course, but the dwarf felt a new sense of purpose as he strained once more against his chains and, with Legolas now awake to move as well, gripped the elf’s shoulder firmly. 

The two spoke casually to each other throughout the day, reminiscing of their times in Minas Tirith and in Imladris. There was no way to tell time here, no windows, no light from the sun or the stars, and Gimli knew that this would soon take a toll on his elven companion no matter how he tried to pretend otherwise. Legolas was itching to move, his fingers tapped restlessly on his metal chain around his wrist and he swayed slightly. Gimli watched him with concern. In most circumstances, he would be nearing the end of his patience and wanting to snap at the elf but here he felt an indignant anger at the white wizard.  _ No creature should be confined like this but especially not an elf. This is more than unnecessary,  _ Gimli thought, as Legolas became more agitated,  _ this is cruel _ . If he wasn’t so worried and angry, Gimli realized, it would have been funny that he was taking such a passionate stance on the proper treatment of elves. He just wished there was something he could do to ease Legolas’ discomfort. His friend was putting up an admirable effort trying to keep Gimi’s spirits high, lightly teasing him and trying harder than usual to keep up the flow of their conversation. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is AU and thus, the Scourging of the Shire did not happen. Saruman is still alive and well enough to torture the dynamic duo. Please not that this will get VERY dark.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for non consensual touching, albeit not in a sexual way. Also, there is a brief mention of sexual assault as Gimli worries about it, but it doesn't happen.

 

Both Legolas and Gimli were awake when Saruman returned. They barely had the chance to share a determined look before the door was opened and the dreadful figure stepped in and crouched derisively in front of them. The elf and dwarf gave no response other than to maintain cold eye contact. After a moment, the Istar laughed. 

“You hide your fear well, young warriors,” he murmured, and to Gimli’s horror, he reached out a bony hand to stroke Legolas’ cheek. The elf immediately jerked his head to the side and the clanging of metal against the hard stone floor echoed throughout the cell as Gimli fought against his bindings.

“Get your hand off of him!” the dwarf roared and Saruman drew back, chuckling lightly. 

“Calm yourself, son of Gloin. I have not hurt him. Have I?” Legolas held back a shudder as the wizard met his eyes with an almost tender curiosity. 

“You have not drawn weapons or instruments of torture against us,” the elf countered coldly, “But I know you need not use such devices to carry out your evil deeds. I have seen how you attempted control of the leaders of the West with voice alone. Your words are poison, Saruman, but there is nothing you could draw from us even if we wished to give it.”

“Oh?” Saruman asked, “And why is that?”

“Sauron has faded. His malice was destroyed in the same inferno as Isildur’s bane. You have been banished from your stronghold and the very council you once headed. You are working for nothing. I know not what you are trying for keeping us here but I can not see what you hope to gain.”

“I no longer desire the ring,  _ pen nath _ . And while I admire your determination,” he smiled mockingly as though praising the efforts of a child showing off a poorly performed feat, “You are quite wrong in stating that there is nothing you can give me. I am sure you have learned from Mithrandir, that the greatest of feats begin with the gathering of knowledge and there is much knowledge you can give me.”

“Maybe there is,” interjected Gimli, tired of the wizard lilting voice, “But we won’t. We did not survive the war by giving in to villains like you.”

“You are wrong again, dwarf,” said Saruman, “For you have already given me much. As I have stated before, I do not need knowledge of the ring or your fellowship. The information I desire need not all be gathered in an interrogation, although there will be time for that as well. Much can be observed simply by watching.”

“What does that mean?” Gimli asked. There was no fear in his voice but his fists clenched at his sides.

“You will find out soon enough. I shan’t risk my endeavor by giving away too much. You may have heard that experiments can not be properly carried out if those who are to be observed know what they are being observed for.” The wizard stood up to leave again, letting his eyes rest on Legolas for a moment. The elf glared cooly at him but there was something about the mirth in Saruman’s eyes that made Gimli’s skin crawl, “We will begin at daybreak. I will have some food and water brought to you shortly.”

The door closed shut leaving the elf and dwarf alone again. As soon as he was certain that he was no longer being watched, Legolas carefully raised his own hand to his cheek and Gimli was startled to see a thin line where the wizard had touched him. 

“Don’t think too much about it, Lad,” the dwarf said, “He’s trying to get into our heads.”

Legolas nodded, “You are right. I have been foolish to fall into the very manipulation I exposed him for.”

“You’re always foolish,” Gimli teased half heartedly. In truth, he wasn’t sure of his own words. He wasn’t going to entertain the thought, not to himself and certainly not to Legolas but the way Saruman had looked at his friend as he touched him, and earlier, as he had observed the elf sleep… Gimli had seen it before. Not personally, but the way his father had described the gold sickness that had afflicted his distant cousin Thorin. A lust that burned feverishly in the eyes. Saruman may have been more subtle but there was no mistaking it. The thought of that wretched Istar laying another hand on Legolas, especially in such a vile way made Gimli feel utterly sick. Worse, he had no way to warn the elf should his fears become more pertinent. Legolas had certainly recognized the malice in Saruman’s expression but Gimli knew that he did not see quite the same way. He was innocent to the threat of what a gentle touch could mean, outside of knowing that it made him uncomfortable. As soon as he was released from these chains, none could save the wizard from Gimli’s wrath. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter has more non consensual touching and physical violence.

As had been promised, food and water was brought to them. Not by a servant, as they had expected, but by Saruman himself. He smiled coldly when neither Legolas nor Gimli accepted what had been offered.

“It is not poison,” he said softly and took a sip of the water. He left without another word.

“I do not want to drink from what he has touched,” Legolas said.

“Me neither,” Gimli agreed, “But we’ll need our strength.”  _ I hope not as much as I fear.  _

Neither slept well that ‘night’ as it was very hard to find a comfortable position with one wrist chained. When Saruman came for them the next morning, they were both bleary eyed and sore. The Istar smiled to himself as he bent down to unlock Legolas’ bindings. The elf glanced warily up at him but made no protest. Unbeknownst to him and Gimli, the water they had been given, while not containing poison, had contained a rather high dose of a certain herb used often in healing but which Saruman had procured for a much more sinister purpose. It would not affect the dwarf, which was good for Saruman wanted him to be aware, for now. He had planned something specially designed to exploit the elf and dwarf’s vulnerabilities. Besides, he could not deny that the idea of toying with a barely conscious elf, aware of what was going on but unable to fight back or defend himself was a highly entertaining one. Especially with one so skilled as Legolas. The archer clearly praised himself in mastery of body and mind, something which Saruman was indecently excited to manipulate.  

With a thin finger, Saruman raised Legolas’ chin, mostly because he knew how much it enraged the dwarf. “Let us see your pretty face, now,” he crooned, as he lifted the braided hair falling over his eyes and tucked it behind a pointed ear, ignoring Gimli’s furious protests and threats. The herbs Legolas had been given made him dizzy and disoriented. He blinked several times, clearly confused, as he tried to process the deceptively gentle touch and shouts of his friend. 

“ _ Man _ ?” Legolas asked finally, before switching back, “What have you done?” 

“Nothing, little one,” the wizard murmured, still stroking the elf’s hair, “You’ve simply been giving something to help you relax. See how angry your friend is, hmm?” He looked at Gimli who had stopped shouting and lay against the wall, resigned and despairing, “I must admit it would be difficult to manage both of you and now that I’m assured you will be calm, I’m  _ sure  _ that he will be similarly cooperative.”

“What do you want?” Gimli growled, and, mercifully, the Istar ceased touching the elf. 

“Good, good,” Saruman said, “We have reached this point.” He moved to undo Gimli’s bindings but didn’t touch him as he did Legolas. Gimli was grateful but guilty. As much as he knew he would hate having the horrible being’s hands on him, he would gladly take it to spare his friend. 

“Stand up,” the wizard ordered and Gimli did, “Help him.” He gestured to Legolas. Surprised, Gimli bent down next to Legolas, placing a hand on his shoulder. The elf’s eyes were glazed, not asleep but not fully aware either. 

“Can you stand, Lad?” Gimli asked gently, uncomfortably aware of Saruman’s cold sneer. Gripping Gimli’s arm for support, Legolas slowly got to his feet. 

“Hannon le,” he murmured to the dwarf who nodded solemnly knowing that the elf was thanking him not merely for the help in standing but also for the unspoken words of support and encouragement he had been given. Saruman led the two of them out of the cell and into the corridor, where, several human guards awaited. They paid no notice to the prisoners but they were armed and neither Legolas nor Gimli were prepared to test their orders. The hallway had only one small window and through it, the barest rays of sun were allowed in. It was too high to reveal anything of their surroundings. 

They were taken to a large, airy room mostly empty with the exception of a long table and chest of drawers, which Legolas recognized as similar to the one Lord Elrond kept herbs in but then, the Lord of Imladris was a healer. The elf dreaded to think of what Saruman did with his own apothecary. The room itself seemed a mockery of any healing wing. Both Legolas and Gimli loathed to wonder if the table here would serve a similar purpose to the surgical tables of the healing halls they had been to in Gondor and Imladris. The idea was truly terrifying. Legolas’ grip on Gimli’s arm tightened for a moment. 

Saruman beckoned the two forward in an almost kind fashion. 

“You will sit here, for now, Son of Gloin,” Saruman gestured to the far right wall, “And you, Legolas Thranduilion, come.” Legolas gave the dwarf’s arm a comforting squeeze before he walked over to the wizard. They faced each other. Saruman took a moment to admire the young elf. He was far slighter than the Istar, barely reaching to his shoulder, but he stood his ground well. Legolas stared up at Saruman cooly. Saruman took the archer’s chin in his hand again and this time, he did not flinch, merely maintaining his cold stare until he was released. Saruman was frustrated but intrigued. The young one was clearly attempting to emulate his father. The wizard smirked. The lithe, bright eyed archer was a far cry from the imposing elvenking. He was almost tempted to touch him again, just picturing how angry Thranduil would be, knowing what his beloved only child was threatened with. Deciding however, on a different tactic, Saruman put a comforting hand on Legolas’ shoulder. Despite his obvious fear and anger, the wizard felt Legolas calming involuntarily under the deceptively kind touch. 

“Kneel before me, child,” the Istar murmured, “Face your companion.” As Saruman knew, it took only the mention of Gimli to gain Legolas’ compliance. The dwarf groaned quietly as Legolas kneeled in front of Saruman. The wizard ran a bony hand through the elf’s hair though he remained stiff in posture. 

“Now, I want you quiet for this. Can you do that, hmm?” Saruman tugged lightly on one of Legolas’ braids. 

“Yes,” breathed Legolas softly, as he refrained from pulling away from the touch. 

“Good,” Saruman said, as he strode over to the chest of drawers and took something from the top. Gimli was horrified to see the wizard holding a whip. Saruman gave him a look with the clear message:  _ Quiet.  _ He smiled seeing how anxious the elf was getting, not knowing what was happening behind him but seeing Gimli’s uncontained fear. Saruman waited another three minutes before bringing the whip down onto the elf’s back. Legolas let out a sharp intake of breath but remained silent. Gimli closed his eyes, shaking his head in grief and rage. Twice, three, four times more in rapid succession. Five, then six and seven. Thin lines of blood droplets stained Legolas’ light green tunic. His hands were at his sides, clenched into fists. Legolas’ head was down but Gimli, opening his eyes for a moment, could see his brow furrowed with pain. Every time the horrible weapon hit his friend, the dwarf’s heart clenched. How he wished he could take some of Legolas’ agony for him. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen strikes and finally Saruman straightened, holding the whip at his side. 

“You did well,” he said, calmly, “I may try with your friend next. He seems strong enough to-”

“Nay!” Legolas cried, springing to his feet with grace surprising in one who had spent days confined, bound, and drugged, even for the able bodied wood elf, “Do not hurt him!”

“I told you to remain quiet,” Saruman sneered, though he looked delighted at the elf’s outburst, “It seems you really do care for the dwarf. I am a reasonable man, however. Back on your knees, now.” This was too much for Gimli.

“I’ll take it,” he said, standing himself, “Don’t hit him again!” Gimli ignored the look Legolas gave him. Saruman laughed aloud.

“What to do?” he mused, “Each of you begging me to spare the other! This friendship really is a lovely one but how shall I choose?” The wizard’s eyes rested on Legolas.

“I am sorry Gimli, but I must admit, the elf is far more tempting,” he pulled Legolas against him, in a mock embrace, “We may take a break for now but I want him bound and gagged.” He then pushed the elf back to his knees and used a thin cord to bind his wrists behind his back. Once again ignoring Gimli’s curses, Saruman removed a stretch of cloth from his pocket and tied it around the elf’s mouth. He left without another word. From across the room, Gimli stared at Legolas. His friend didn’t seem to be in as much pain as before; elves healed quickly, after all. The dwarf knew Legolas was grateful, in many ways, that he had been chosen by the twisted Istar.  _ Why won’t you let me protect you? _


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not very long, I know, but I hope to update soon. Please know that the next chapter, while certainly not graphic, is, (if I wrote it correctly) quite upsetting.

Gimli was not gagged and thus, said what he could to comfort the elf. It was difficult to keep his words from sounding like lies and soon he simply told his friend to rest, and slumped back against the wall himself. There was a silence for a short while, complete enough that Gimli figured that they were alone in this part of the fortress. He was nearing sleep when he heard a soft sound. Despite not being able to articulate speech, Legolas had begun to hum a low tune Gimli recognized, with the first spark of joy he had felt since he had woken up in this dreadful place, as the dwarven hymn to the Misty Mountains he had taught Legolas the night before the Battle of Helm’s Deep. The rich, sad sound of the melody filled the space between them in the sparse room and continued in Gimli’s mind after he had fallen asleep. 

Legolas had lost himself so thoroughly in the song that he was painfully startled when the door opened and Saruman re entered. He said nothing as he undid both of their bindings and beckoned for the two to stand. The light from the corridor shone onto the sleek surface of a small knife at the wizard’s belt, ensuring obedience from the prisoners. Legolas and Gimli were led down the hall into yet another room, this one the dwarf recognized from the crafting tables and fire pit as an old amory. Silently, he mused on the location they were being held in. A healing hall, armory, even a few prison cells. t was clearly once a fine place; a former mansion, maybe. Even a palace.  _ Well _ ,  _ at least we are not in some Eru Forsaken underground hall or hidden dungeon. Whoever’s looking for us could hardly miss it _ . Gimli hoped that they’d hurry up. He couldn't imagine spending much more time, let alone dying here, especially after him and Legolas had already survived so much. 

Saruman seemed to enjoy taking the two prisoners from room to room; to see their fear and apprehension as they tried to guess what the contents of each new place was, what purpose they had, and what new torments awaited them each time they were moved. While Gimli and Legolas would later look back on the former healing room as the location of the worst of their torture, the circular, empty old armory was where the events of their captivity took the first sharp turn for the worst. 

The Istar closed the door behind him, then ushered the two to the far wall where they sat. Saruman retrieved a flask from his pocket and handed it to Legolas.

“Drink,” he ordered. When the elf didn’t immediately comply, the knife was taken from Saruman’s belt. The wizard pressed it against Legolas’ cheek, brushing a few strands of hair away. The tension was horrible. Finally, Legolas drank a few sips of whatever Saruman wanted. Gimli watched anxiously as his friend’s face paled. Their captor took the flask back. 

“Do not fret, Little one,” he said, “It is nothing dangerous. Just more of what I gave you before. You will sleep for a while and you might feel strange when you awaken but do not worry. You will be well rested when I return.” Saruman retied the cloth gagging him before turning his gaze to Gimli, “I suggest you rest more, yourself. You do not want to be unable to assist your dear friend in our next meeting.” He stood. 

“Why are you doing this?” Gimli yelled at the wizard’s retreating back, 

“You and the elf are going to become an example,” Saruman said, not turning around, “It is unfortunate how you both must pay for another to learn a lesson but I am sure you know that life is far from fair.” Gimli was not sure if this was an answer to his demand or yet another vague threat but he fell back into an uneasy sleep pondering it nonetheless. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for emotional abuse and non consensual touching with the implied threat of sexual assault.

The room had no windows but Gimli figured there was probably a door to the outside nearby because when Saruman returned, he was hit with a gust of cold wind. Legolas sat against the wall, head down, his breathing shallow. The elf didn’t look up when the Istar entered. He was not alone this time. Three men, dressed in more formal wear than the guards strode in behind him. Gimli stood up, blocking their view of Legolas. He was well aware of how pathetic his attempt looked but still he stood his ground, even when Saruman chuckled. 

“Is it not strange?” the wizard murmured to the man closest to him, “A dwarf shielding one of the Firstborn.” Gimli’s fists curled as the man chuckled along. 

“Tell me, Son of Gloin,” Saruman now addressed the dwarf, “Why does he not stand?” He gestured lazily to Legolas, “Surely he is not unconscious?”

“You know well why!” Gimli growled, “Take those horrible binds off him. Surely you are not afraid of us? Not with your bodyguards with you!” It was foolish to antagonize him, Gimli knew, but he was determined to keep the attention off of Legolas for as long as possible.

The wizard merely smiled, however, “The bindings are not for my benefit. They are for yours.” 

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“These men have come at my invitation; they are expecting a show. They are very interested in this unique bond between  _ fangon _ and  _ eldar _ .” Gimli’s insides felt cold, “I was worried how the elf would…  respond…  __ to some of our activities today and so, for his own protection, as well as yours, I deemed it prudent to limit his movements. I am sure you understand. You know how wood elves can be. They’re practically like beasts when cornered.” The men laughed again. 

“What say we begin?” Saruman asked the room. The man behind him spoke up in cruel agreement.    
“I for one am excited to see this one,” he pointed to Legolas, “Put in his place. I’ve had dealings with elves for years. Insufferable they are. Acting above us.”

Gimli glared at him. He knew he was being manipulated. His own words about the eldar he might have believed years ago echoed back to him.

“Well this one certainly won’t be for long,” Saruman turned to Gimli, “Kiss him.”

Whatever Gimli had been expecting, it was not this. He stared at Saruman, desperately hoping he had misheard but too afraid to ask. 

“Why on Arda should I do that?” he demanded finally. 

“You are helping to show him that he is not above being mastered simply do to his heritage. And after all the House of Oropher has done to your people,  I’m sure you have often thought about this, Son of Gloin. Having one of the Firstborn submissive to you? Desiring only forgiveness for his sins against you.” Gimli suppressed a shudder. Did the damned Istar actually think this was a tempting offer? Legolas was his best friend and while he could be slightly annoying at times, the idea of someone, least of all him, using force and violence to twist him into servitude sickened him. The elf’s free, vibrant spirit endeared him to Gimli. 

The wizard’s voice became low and dangerous, “If you do not, I will. I offer you this unique chance but… ” 

“I’ll do it,” Gimli said miserably, “Do not touch him.” He walked over to where Legolas was bound and gently removed the cloth gagging him.

“I’m so sorry, Lad,” the dwarf murmured, as quietly as he could,“Please forgive me.” Legolas nodded and tried for a faint smile. Gimli sighed as he bent down to brush some of the elf’s hair off his face and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead. Of course Legolas forgave him. To the archer, this was a bizarre method of torment, perhaps, but he did not yet see where this could go. Where it must not go. 

Gimli turned back to the men, “Does this satisfy your sick need?” 

“Not yet,” the wizard sneered, “Kiss his lips.” Disgusted, but fearing more what his hesitation could bring, Gimli took another step closer to Legolas. The elf’s face showed puzzlement and discomfort but he tried for an encouraging nod. Gimli felt a pang of strange sadness when he remembered that Legolas had never kissed another before. Not like this, at least. He seemed unsure what to do. Gimli laid one hand on Legolas’ cheek, both to try and comfort him but also to keep him still without making him feel more trapped. The dwarf was no stranger to this kind of act but never in his decades of life had he done  _ anything  _ to someone who had not fully consented. Time in the room seemed to slow. Gimli was torn between trying to make the kiss as pleasant as possible and therefore risk making Legolas even more confused, or just trying to get it done with and risk being ordered to repeat the act. Without fully deciding, he pressed his lips against the archer’s. Legolas remained still. It was clear he had no idea what was expected of him. After less than ten seconds, Gimli pulled away. Legolas blinked as though he wasn’t entirely sure what had just occurred, which, Gimli figured, was somewhat true. The dwarf gave him what he hoped was a comforting smile before turning away. 

“Good,” murmured Saruman and Gimli held his breath, hoping that the wizard would not require any more of this, “I would like to spend some time alone with them, I think” he said to the men behind him who nodded and allowed themselves out. 

“Years of living under the Shadow has twisted you, Saruman,” said Legolas, as the door shut loudly, “For the torment of any being is unnecessary and cruel, it is only the soul absolutely devoid of the light who allows these acts simply for their own pleasure. You do not want information from us. You wish to see this because it amuses you.” Gimli was surprised. Legolas, despite his innocence in performing such acts was clearly not as naive as the dwarf first thought. Before he could decide whether this made the situation better or worse, however, Saruman spoke again. 

“Gag him. I do not want to hear any more of these self righteous rambles.” At first, Gimli was unsure who Saruman was speaking to but the impatient gesture of the wizard’s hand half a minute later made it clear. Reluctantly, Gimli turned back to Legolas. He retied the cloth around the elf’s mouth as loosely as he dared to. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> General creepiness in this chapter.

The Istar strolled over to the wall a few paces from Legolas and leaned against it, watching the two closely. Though his eyes were still on Legolas, Gimli could almost feel Saruman licking his lips as the dwarf carefully moved a few strands of Legolas’ hair from the cloth. From his position Legolas could not properly see the wizard but the nearly unconcealed look of fear on Gimli’s face frightened him. He could not remember the last time he had seen the dwarf wear an expression of pure fear. With the cloth covering his mouth there was nothing Legolas could say or do to comfort his friend. He was almost sad when Gimli’s hand left his face. Touch was their only way of communicating now but the elf knew it would not be long before the cruel wizard managed rob them of this as well, by either separating them or continuing his twisted game of corrupting the most innocent of touches by ordering them for his own amusement.

...

After Saruman left, Gimli immediately removed the cloth from his friend’s mouth and was startled to see the white fabric stained with blood. He realized that Legolas must have bitten his lip at some point to keep from crying out. The dwarf then tried for almost ten minutes to undo the chains binding the elf’s wrists before finally giving up with a cry of frustration.

“Tis alright,” Legolas murmured as Gimli sank down beside him, “You have tried very well, mellon nin.”

“I’m so sorry, Legolas,” said Gimli miserably, “For everything.”

“You have naught to be sorry for. You know he would have been eager for a reason to hurt us more if you had refused.” With some effort, Legolas lifted his bound wrists to let them rest on Gimli’s folded hands. He ran his fingers over the bruises on Legolas’ arms, trying to smile but there was a desperate sadness behind it. He feared that this might be one of the last moments they would have to take comfort in each other.

“Legolas,” Gimli started. The elf turned his head to look at him. Blinking, Gimli put one hand on his friend’s shoulder, “I want you to know… I _need_ you to know that no matter what happens-”

“Did I not say this bond was a lovely one?” a cold, amused voice spoke from the darkness. Both turned sharply. As Saruman drew closer to them, Gimli met Legolas’ eyes. The elf nodded solemnly.

“I know,” Legolas muttered, for while he was not certain how Gimli intended to finish his sentence, he knew what answer was needed. Looking slightly more settled, the dwarf turned to Saruman.

“How dare you watch us from the shadows, wizard? You have no right!” Saruman laughed, a hideous sound that filled the small, poorly ventilated room. The elf and dwarf instinctively moved closer to each other, chilled to their core.

“No right? My dear dwarf, you are in _my_ quarters. You both are _my_ prisoners. Neither of you have _any_ rights. If you need a reminder of your place here, I would be more than happy to show you.” He crouched down in front of them and put one hand on each of their shoulders, “You see? I can do whatever I wish to you; I can touch you,” here, he lifted a hand to pull lightly on one of Legolas’ braids, “whenever and however I wish. You both would do well to remember this.” Saruman drew back to survey his prisoner’s expression. There was fury, of course, but also fear. Satisfied, he stood again and waited for a moment to make Legolas and Gimli wonder what would happen next. Saruman smiled to himself as he decided to switch methods once again.

“Are either of you thirsty?” the Istar asked suddenly, breaking the silence, “You, Gimli, have had no water since yesterday. I know you will not trust what I give you so I propose this: I will let you watch as I pour the water and I will take a full glass as well. Will you drink then?”

“What are you trying to do?” Gimli asked wearily.

“Nothing at all,” Saruman crooned, “As I said before, you are my prisoners and it will not do for either of you to exhaust yourself, or worse, from lack of water.” He turned to leave. Gimli and Legolas sat silently in the gloom of the windowless space. Neither of them understood this new game the Istar was playing and they did not like it at all. Gimli held out an arm for the elf to lean against him. They could think of nothing to say and merely took comfort in each other’s presence while waiting for the wizard to return. They could not help but to feel that the constant manipulation of their expectations and feelings was starting to deeply trouble them for while he was grateful, however, to have Legolas so close, Gimli still heard a snide voice asking why the elf could stand to be touched by him. How he could stand to even be close.

 


	10. Chapter 10

Saruman returned with a pitcher and three stacked glasses. Placing them on the table, he poured one first and drank the contents in full view of his prisoners. He then filled the other two cups and brought them over. He handed both go Gimli and before turning and with surprising numbness, unlocked the binds on Legolas’ wrists. The dwarf handed him a glass and they both drank.

“Good, good,” the Istar murmured, almost to himself, taking the glasses back, “Stand up.” Sharing a look, Legolas and Gimli complied.

“Come,” Saruman murmured.

“Where are you taking us to?” Legolas asked wearily.

“Back to your cell for a few days,” the wizard replied absently, as he beckoned the two out, “I am sure you both will be happy to be away from me for a while. But I will be back before long.”  

Legolas was tempted to ask the Istar where he was going but decided against it, not wanting to play into the way Saruman was attempting to manipulate him and Gimli with pretend friendly casualness. 

They were taken back to the small space and left there for five and a half days, although they didn’t know the exact length of time. Saruman’s absence made up slightly for the deplorable conditions of the cell. Too small even to pace in, with nothing but a bucket and a small basin of water in the corner. And even while Gimli marveled at Legolas’ ability to stay clean in such an awful place, however, he couldn’t help but to notice how ill his friend seemed. He was drawn and pale, even more so than usual, and his breathing was shallow. The dwarf knew that Legolas suffered so far from the trees, and the stars, and the clean air. The two spent most of the time trying to sleep. Sometimes, Legolas would sing a soft hymn in his native tongue but though his voice was still clear and melodious, his exhaustion was clear as well. Twice, he fell into his trance like sleep mid verse. They spoke very little. Any attempts at conversation fell into a gloom as the two had little to speak of besides old adventures that only made their current situation feel all the more depressing and bleak. And all the while, they knew Saruman would return soon.

And indeed he did. Legolas and Gimli sat on opposite sides of the small cell when the elf looked up suddenly, his friend immediately knowing that he had heard something. A nod from Legolas confirmed it. The dwarf sighed, bracing himself when the door was opened and their tormentor stepped in. Without a word, he bent down and grabbed Legolas’ arm, bringing him into a standing position.

“Do not fight me, little one, or it will be your friend who pays,” the Istar said as he half dragged the weakened elf into the hall. Legolas shared a helpless look with Gimli as the door was shut again. The wizard said nothing more as he brought Legolas back to the old healing room where he and Gimli had been taken almost a week before. It wasn’t until the door was locked behind him that Saruman spoke.

“Do not look so sad. I will bring the dwarf back here soon. I merely wanted to give you two some time alone to… think some things over.” Legolas looked wearily at him as the wizard indicated the table in the corner. The elf shuddered as he realized Saruman intended for him to lie upon it. He closed his eyes, too weak from lack of food and proper rest, as well as the constant physical and mental torment to resist as his hands were bound trapping him on the wooden table. Mercifully, he was not touched again. As soon as the Istar finished his bindings, he left himself leaving Legolas alone in the dark room, away from Gimli for the first time during this horrible ordeal.                                              

     Legolas’ wrists were bound above his head. He was blindfolded and gagged. The cut on the inside of his cheek where he had bitten himself to try to contain the terror he felt when Saruman tied him here, still bled, slowly but steadily. Unable to open his mouth fully, the blood dribbled down his cheek. Hours of lying there, feeling the warm, irony substance permeate his taste and trickle down his jaw without being able to clear it away was maddening. Every so often, the elf would shift awkwardly on the table, trying to find a more comfortable position to no avail. He was alone. Gimli was still back in their cell. As much as he hated the silence and the solitude he faced in this desolate place, he was glad, really, that Gilmli was not in a place where they could be used against each other. The time before he had been tied here was truly awful. Saruman brought three strange men to the room where he and Gimli had been left. He then ordered Gimli to kiss him. It had surprised Legolas to hear this but he held on to hope that it would be over quickly; that the White Wizard merely wanted to demonstrate his control over his two prisoners in this way. Unfortunately, even after Gimli had lightly kissed Legolas’ forehead, (much as the elf had kissed him, in sheer relief for their survival after the Battle of Helm’s Deep), Saruman was not satisfied. He ordered the dwarf to kiss his lips and though Legolas remained as calm and unmoved as he could, which as quite so, for as the ever stoic warrior, he had been trained to maintain a cool facade throughout all forms of abuse, in reality, the action brought a piercing pain to his heart. It was not Gimli’s fault, of course for his friend was just as upset as he was. The dwarf tried to make it as quick and painless as possible. He guided Legolas with gentle hands and reassuring looks as he pressed his lips against his and held them there for a moment in time that left the two breathless with the intensity of what should have been an intimate moment, tainted by Saruman’s cold sneer and the derisive laughter of the men. Legolas had never before been touched in such a way. He tried to tell himself that their mutual reluctance in the act and the circumstances it had occurred in meant that he had no need to think of it as his first time kissing another but the knowledge that Saruman fully intended to force the two into a form of intimacy gnawed at him. He felt tainted as much by the impure motives behind the kiss as he did from the act itself. And he feared Saruman's love of torment would escalate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that there is a bit of redundancy in the last paragraph, but I wanted to share some of what was going through Legolas' mind in the previous chapters. Also, please know that there will be some twisted content in the next chapters. Nothing too graphic, but still .


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More disturbing content in this chapter.

Though blinded and prevented from speaking, Legolas’ hearing was unimpaired. He heard footsteps several hundred paces away, moving towards him. Two sets. One he had known for much time now to be Gimli’s, the other he has learned to recognize recently as that of Saruman. Behind the blindfold, Legolas closed his eyes as the door was opened. The white wizard was already giving orders to Gimli in his own tongue. Though he could not understand it, it pained him to hear it. Legolas knew how sacred the language of the dwarves was to Gimli’s people. Saruman might have been using it out of mere convenience, as it was the only language that Gimli knew and the elf did not, but he was ruining it. He feared to know what he was being told for whatever it was seemed to make the dwarf protest. Gimli said something loudly, Saruman laughed and repeated what it was he had said before. Legolas tensed as he felt Gimli approach him, his footsteps heavy with the weight of whatever cruel order he had been given. The dwarf paused for a moment beside Legolas before placing one hand on the elf’s forehead. Legolas could feel his hand trembling slightly and knew that this touch was not meant to provide comfort; it was part of whatever torment Saruman had planned. He traced his hand down the elf’s cheek, brushing his fingers over the trail of blood. Legolas didn’t dare to move, fearing any resistance would lead to Gimli being hurt. The elf tensed when he felt something warm fall against his cheek. He realized that Gimli was crying. 

“Are you not going to say anything, Elf?” Legolas knew, from the buried pain in Gimli’s question that the words had been scripted out for him but still felt his heart clench at the malice in his voice, “Aside from your singing, that is?” He paused. It was difficult for him to maintain this cruel tone towards his friend, “I want you to be quiet for me now. Do you understand?” Legolas nodded quickly and the dwarf forced a cold laugh that sounded like the prelude to a sob. He patted the elf’s cheek mockingly and Legolas did not flinch. 

Gimli hated this more than he had ever hated anything in his life. He had no idea whether the wizard actually thought he could permanently damage his friendship with Legolas by making the dwarf carry out his cruel desires, or if this was merely a game to him but it no longer mattered, really. He just wanted it all to stop. This was not what he had been trained for. He could easily withstand amounts of physical pain that would make most humans wish for death but this… 

“Good.” Gimli sounded so tired. Legolas wished that he could do something to alleviate his friend’s mental and physical exertion. The dwarf was the most good hearted and loyal being he had met. Legolas knew how horrible this was for him. Saruman spoke something else and Gimli responded vehemently. The elf feared to know what he had been ordered this time. The wizard’s voice rose angrily and finally, Gimli seemed to speak with resignation again. Legolas tensed as his chin was once again lifted by the firm, calloused hand that had once meant comfort and safety. Without warning, Gimli violently forced two fingers into the elf’s slightly opened mouth. Legolas remained as still as he could, scarcely daring to breathe out. 

“Speak a word of your Elvish tongue again and you will be punished.” Legolas nodded a second time, hoping that the fingers would be removed, for both of their sakes, 

As horrible as that had been, hearing the grief in Gimli’s voice when he and Legolas were finally left alone was even worse. (With the promise of a continuance soon, of course) He had apologized, and all Legolas could do was nod. Desperate to communicate his message, he gestured with his head to his bound hands. 

“I’m sorry,” said Gimli, miserably, “I don’t think I can get these undone.” Legolas shook his head frantically and finally, Gimli understood. He gripped his friend’s hand  and the elf traced a few letters onto his palm. N O T Y O U R F A U L T. 

“Thanks, Lad,” the dwarf murmured sitting against the wall, head in his hands.  _ Oh Mahal Let this be over soon _ . He was losing his resolve and he knew Legolas was too. Gimli knew elves could fade from emotional turmoil and he found himself selfishly hoping that Legolas would hold on at least for him. Gimli couldn’t imagine losing his bright, vibrant friend to the darkness here.


	12. A Brief Interlude

**...**

_Saruman was in his study when he became aware of the front doors being opened. He stood, knowing it was only a matter of time before the intruders arrived at his quarters. He knew well who they were and was eager to greet them. When the wooden door was opened, the two most powerful members of Saruman’s former council were revealed in the dim light of the hall. Both held expressions of grim determination._

_“Where are they?” Mithrandir demanded, as Saruman knew he would._

_“Ah… I should have known I could not expect a more proper greeting, Gandalf the Grey,” the wizard said, “I trust you have…”_

_“I have no time for this Saruman! Where are they?” From behind him, Galadriel stared faintly at a point in front of her. She look vaguely troubled and the white wizard felt an indecent delight in knowing that the Lady of Light would witness what he had subjected Legolas and Gimli to._

_“They are here,” she murmured, “Below us. They are alive but in much pain. Go now, find them.” Gandalf started to argue but fell silent and left. Saruman was left alone with Galadriel, his former compatriot and ally, who he had not seen since his own treachery had been revealed._

_“When did you first set eyes on them?” There was no point in lying. Galadriel asked the question only out of formality. She could easily see the answers she needed._

_“At the Orthanc,” Saruman sat down, knowing he was in for a long evening, “They came with Mithrandir, the ranger, and the now dead king. The dwarf ordered the elf to shoot me,” Saruman smiled coldly, “And he raised his bow. I had never seen an elf take orders from a dwarf. It… intrigued me.”_

_“As I am sure it did Mithrandir and Theoden,” said Galadriel, in an alarmingly calm voice. Saruman had to wonder how much she already knew. He did not yet know why she was interrogating him; surely she did not think he would regret his actions simply by speaking them aloud, “You can not mean to tell me that your ponderings at Isengard troubled you so that months after the war ended, you returned investigate further.” Here she took on a slightly sarcastic tone. Saruman was getting impatient._

_“What do you wish to know?”_

_“Everything,” she replied, “You will tell me everything that has occurred here. Everything you have subjected Legolas and Gimli to and your reasons for doing so.”_

_“Why do you wish to know such things, My Lady?” Saruman sneered derisively at her, “Surely there are better ways of finding out what I did to your two young friends than hearing me say it. Do you even trust my word?”_

_“You will speak your crimes aloud,” said Galadriel, still standing still in the doorway, “You know who will hear of them. We will remain here until you have completed the story. Mithrandir has already found your prisoners. There is nothing more you can do to them and you_ will _face penance for what you have already done. Do not have us laboring under false delusions of what has happened. As well, I am sure you wish to speak of it. I can see the delight in your eyes.”_

_“You are right, of course,” said Saruman, “I will find much pleasure in telling you what has happened here. I will especially enjoy detailing what I did to the little one,” his lip curled, “Legolas, yes?” Galadriel drew forth a chair from the side of the room with such fluidity she barely seemed to have moved by the time she was seated._

_“I know you are capable of great cruelty, Saruman,” she said, mildly but with a clear tone of warning, “I know you wish to gain a hand by detailing the abuse of your prisoners with a casualty most find unsettling. You are right in assuming that it will anger me but my intent will not be swayed, thus. I came here knowing what I could find. Now, tell me how you brought Legolas and Gimli here.”_


	13. Chapter 13

They were taken back to their cell and left there. Ever since the last time Saruman had come to torment them, the elf had been practically unresponsive to Gimli. He lay, curled up on the cold stone next to him. Legolas’ silence was alarming. Even in sleep, he was nearly always murmuring or singing to himself and though Gimli loved to tease him about it, in reality, the dwarf found it quite comforting. It was a reassurance that Legolas was indeed, still there. Especially in the first few days of their captivity. Now, there was nothing but Gimli was reluctant to try to draw a response from the elf. Every so often, he would reach out and touch his shoulder to confirm that he was still breathing but other than that, he left him alone. His own guilt at what he had been forced to do to Legolas gnawed at him. He tried to tell himself that Legolas knew that he had been ordered, that there had been no other choice but, that last time, at least, the elf had been so delirious that Gimli could not blame him for not knowing what was happening or why. He only hoped that Legolas could be drawn out of his reverie one last time, at least, so Gimli could assure him that he had never, ever, wanted to do those horrible things. So he could comfort him, one last time, if that’s what it would be, and beg for his forgiveness. He knew the elf would probably grant it but felt selfish for relying on his friend’s kind nature.   
When Mithrandir found them, on the seventeenth day of their captivity, Gimli was practically frantic. The old grey wizard opened the door to their cell, much as Saruman had and thus, the dwarf was understandably alarmed.   
“Gimli, my friend?” Gandalf asked, bending down close, too close the dwarf decided, “Are you hurt?” Gimli shook his head, too tired to feel relieved, and the wizard turned to Legolas, reaching out.   
“DO NOT TOUCH HIM!” Gimli cried, the anger, and fear, and despair all collapsing into his demand. Gandalf looked stricken but recovered quickly. There was a deeply sad look in his eyes but Gimli didn’t care. He jumped up and stood in front of the elf, glaring at Gandalf.   
“Legolas will not be hurt,” a gentle, melodious voice sounded from the doorway, “He is safe now. You both are.” Radiant, even in the bleakest depths of Saruman’s dungeons, the Lady Galadriel entered, beckoning Gandalf aside with a small gesture. Gimli almost wept with relief, he was so spent. If anyone would know what to do, it was the Lady of Light. She too knelt down next to Legolas.   
“He might fight you,” the dwarf said gruffly, “He won’t want to be touched. He…” Gimli couldn’t finish. The Lady didn’t require him to, she merely smiled sadly at him. Gimli wondered if she already knew. He wanted to hide his face. He deserved no mercy from her; he who tormented, however unwillingly, one of her young kinsmen. Yet, her face held no judgment, no condemnation. Only a gentle concern.   
Galadriel passed one hand over Legolas’ face. He seemed to calm; his eyes were no longer shut so tightly, his body relaxed. As if he weighed no more than a child, which Gimli conceded, was quite possible, Galadriel lifted him up.   
“He is cold,” she said to Gandalf, “Whatever anguish he has experienced has weakened his resistance to the elements.” Gandalf took off his cloak and draped it over the younger elf while Galadriel murmured a few words to him. Never had the language of the elves sounded so beautiful to Gimli.   
They left the small space. Gimli turned back on the threshold and glared at the wall behind him.  
“Come, Gimli,” Galadriel said gently, still holding Legolas against her, “We will take you back to Imladris. You will never return here. You are safe.”   
Gimli slept on the way back. It was the first time he had ever ridden a horse without holding on to Legolas for dear life but he was so tired and relieved he barely even registered the nature of the journey. It wasn’t until Gandalf woke him with and lifted him from the creature that it fully sunk in; they were safe. Galadriel was still holding a sleeping Legolas and singing softly to him. Gimli remembered that her own child had left Middle Earth after the torment she had experienced. No! He thought, Legolas will remain. That poor elven lady didn’t have a dwarf to hold her here. I will not let him sail. Not when I am the reason for his sadness.   
Lord Elrond met them as they climbed the steps. He had run out at the first sign of their return and, seeing that Gimli and Legolas were alive with no visible lethal injuries, he fought the urge to sink to his knees then and there to thank the Valar. His twins and Aragorn followed behind him. Aragorn ran to Gimli while Elladan and Elrohir approached Galadriel.  
Gimli returned the former ranger’s embrace, trying to ignore the snide voice of his own guilt, telling him he was undeserving of any such comfort.  
“I’m alright,” he assured Aragorn, somewhat truthfully. He was starving and still tired, but he had retained no physical injuries other than a small bruise on his left arm. Aragorn nodded, clenching and unclenching his jaw as he looked from the dwarf to Legolas and back again. Galadriel had finally managed to assure the dark haired twins that Legolas was not dying and Elrond had swooped forward to take him inside.   
“What happened?” Elrohir demanded, rounding on Gimli. The dwarf stared at him for a moment. He knew he would be asked this but he wasn’t at all prepared.   
“Do not yet press him,” Galadriel said, “Join your father in the healing wing. Estel is already there.” Elrohir made the same clenching movement Aragorn had made before but allowed his brother to lead him away. Gimli sighed and sat down on the steps. To his surprise, Galadriel joined him.   
“I know what you fear, Gimli,” she said, quietly, “I restrained Saruman before we found you and I bade him tell me what he had done. No actions or deeds there were the fault of any but him. If you had not obeyed his demands, however much they grieve you, Saruman would have taken no trouble ending your life and subjecting Legolas to greater torment. Torment which would have only ceased with his own death.” She met his eyes for a moment and Gimli knew what she spoke of, “Lord Elrond will find out as well, from you if you wish, or from me. He will not blame you. No one here is naive of Saruman’s cruelty, Gimli. Not one who learns of what you two were subjected to will deny that both of you took great actions to protect each other. Legolas’ wounds manifest themselves in physical illness, as is the nature of our people, but that does not mean he was the only one hurt.”  
“Thank you, My Lady,” Gimli muttered, trying to look at her, “It does help me to hear that although I fear my guilt will not lift for a long time.”  
“That may be,” said Galadriel, “But know that the guilt you feel is that of compassion. You hurt because you feel you caused another pain. You do not bear the burden of one guilty of real wrongdoing.” She stood up and offered a hand to Gimli, “Shall we go now and see how Legolas fares?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is not yet over. For those reading mostly for angst: There will be more of the torment Legolas and Gimli were subjected to in flashbacks. So hooray? I guess.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brief mention of sexual assault

Lord Elrond was having trouble maintaining order, something he was not used to. He sat on the edge of Legolas’ bed in the healing wing, attempting to better examine the younger elf’s injuries. His twin sons and Aragorn stood behind him, awaiting orders. This, in itself was not an unusual event but never before had he had so much trouble calming a patient. Legolas was only half awake but already he fought Elrond’s hands. The elven lord had already figured out that Legolas was unable to see clearly due to the herbs he had been forced to take at Saruman’s command. This was mercifully only a temporary malady but it was obvious it worsened his distress. Galadriel entered some time later while Gimli stood nervously in the doorway. Elrond had not been able to make progress and he was anxious to find out just what the archer had been given. 

“Strong melanero liquer , if I may posit a guess,” the Lady of Light said over Elrond’s shoulder as if she had read his mind, (she probably had). Once again, Elladan, Elrohir, and Aragorn were beckoned away so Galadriel and Elrond could have more room to work. Melanero was a potent substance on its own; combined with liqueur, it was often used as a sedative. It rendered one disoriented and sleepy but also heightened tactile sensations. It was a cruel draught Legolas had been given, Elrond knew. The young elf would have been awake and overly aware of any pain or touch but unable to fight back or even speak clearly. 

The Lord of Imladris sighed. He had been alive for thousands of years and had many strong words for such a moment but was determined to remain calm, at least while he was still at Legolas’ bedside. He resumed trying to see just what the injuries were. Ever so gently, he brushed Legolas’ hair off his face revealing strange bruises there, as well as along his ears and neck made not by force, but by some sort of internal malady. Elrond had seen similar wounds on his wife hundreds of years ago; physical manifestations of the horror and shame she experienced during her own captivity. He didn’t dare to look at Galadriel, certain she was thinking something similar. Celebrian was her daughter. 

_ He did not _ Galadriel said to Elrond silently,  _ Saruman did not force him. At least he did not complete the act _ . While this could be filed under ‘good news’, the elven lord also understood the implications of Galadriel’s words. He didn’t force him completely. Legolas was subjected to torment of a similar nature, then. Elrond guessed that, when he finally was able to remove the rest of Legolas’ clothes, he would find more of the sinister marks. He closed his eyes in grief for a moment. It was clear he would not be able to finish the exam until Legolas calmed down. He didn’t seem to have any wounds in need of immediate stitching, bandaging, or the like and Elrond was very reluctant to add to the younger elf’s distress by putting him through a physical procedure while he was still so disoriented and frightened.  _ I must write to his father _ .  _ He will wish to come as soon as he can _ . Few conditions could coax King Thranduil out of the Greenwood but the health and safety of his only child was right at the top of that list. Elrond loathed having to send this message.  _ Legolas will survive  _ he told himself firmy.  _ I will not have to tell another parent that their child is lost _ .  _ Not like this.  _

“Legolas, _hên_ _nin_ ,” Elrond said, quietly as he held the archer’s arms’ to stop them from hitting him, “You are safe. You are back at Imladris.” It took nearly ten minutes but finally, Legolas seemed to calm. His arms stopped flailing and he stilled, his head against the soft  pillow. 

“Gimli?” he asked weakly. 

“Gimli is safe,” Elrond confirmed, “He is resting. He wishes to see you as soon as you too have taken rest.” 

“I am at Imladris?”

“Yes. You are among friends. Your ordeal is over.” 

Legolas seemed to relax before being suddenly struck with something, he tried to sit up, looking frantically from Elrond to Galadriel, “He… he hurt Gimli. He made him…” he trailed off, looking away. Galadriel put her hand on Elrond’s shoulder. He stood up, letting the Lady of Lorien take his pace. 

“I heard from the white wizard of what you and Gimli were subjected to,” Galadriel said gently. Elrond gave her a curious look, “We know it was not Gimli’s fault. He is in no trouble.” 

“Rest now, child. You are still cold and tired,” Galadriel said, smiling sadly as she adjusted Legolas’ blanket, “You may see Gimli when you awaken.”

“Does he know… know I do not blame him?” Legolas asked softly as he drifted off into sleep. 

“Gimli knows in some ways,” assured Galadriel, as she stood up, “It may take some time before his guilt lifts, as he is aware. He knows you stand by him.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: so this chapter deals much with recovery from any kind of trauma, but has many parallels to trauma from abuse as that is what I have experience with. Thus, it could very possibly be triggering.

        Gimli paced back and forth in the room Aragorn had pointed him towards. He was exhausted but far too anxious to sleep. Right away, when Galadriel had gone into the healing room telling him to wait outside, he knew something was wrong. Even when she and Elrond had returned, assuring him that Legolas was simply very anxious and afraid, but not terribly injured, Gimli had been himself unable to settle for they still would not let him see the elf. Finally sitting down, burying his head in his hands, the dwarf blinked away a few more tears. Maybe, he thought, Legolas did not want to see him. He could hardly blame him if that was true.

                “May I bathe?” Legolas asked when Elrond reentered his room. The healer thought for a moment. On one hand, he did not want to let a traumatized patient out of his sight. On the other he was clearly very agitated and perhaps bathing would calm him enough that the Lord of Imladris could actually examine his injuries.  
     In the quiet of the bathing room, Legolas stripped himself of his torn and blood-stained garments and grabbed a washing cloth and glass jar of soap. He began to thoroughly wash himself taking no care to be gentle on his bruised skin in his haste to rid himself of the filth he felt cling to his very being. He could feel every moment of his imprisonment on his skin, every speck of dirt from lying on the cold floor of his cell, every print where he had been touched. With a soft cry of dismay however, Legolas could see no sign of success in the water other than the watery red remnants of dried blood. He did not understand why the dirt and other stains he knew still marred him would not wash off, transforming his bath dark and dusty. Maybe, he thought he had not scrubbed hard enough, too mindful of his many injuries despite his attempts to ignore them. Gingerly, Legolas got a second clean cloth and pressed it against his arm. Bracing himself against the ache he began to wash harshly until the bruises on his arms and legs were no longer standing out covered by the angry red marks from the warm water and violent movement of the cloth. It hurt but Legolas needed to be more clean before he even touched the night clothes and warm towel Lord Elrond had left out for him.  
    Meanwhile the ancient healer had begun to get concerned. Legolas had been alone for more than half an hour. With a sigh, Elrond stood, and without a word to Galadriel who had been waiting with him went to knock on the bathing room door.  
“Legolas? It is me. Are you well?” No answer. He knocked again and waited for a moment, “I am coming in,” Elrond opened the door, Galadriel still silent behind him. _Oh_ _Eru_ , he thought when he saw the young elf huddled in a corner wearing only light cotton leggings, the bruises on his chest and shoulders visible along with red streaks clearly made from the cloth he was holding.  
“Legolas!” Elrond gasped rushing over to kneel beside him taking his hands and gently prying the cloth from his clenched fingers. Legolas raised his head and Elrond held back a gasp. His hair was cut to his shoulders. Frantically, Elrond looked around for what he had used to cut it, his eyes falling on a small knife on the washing basin. With a nod from him Galadriel took it, pocketing it. He did not fear being attacked however he wanted to make sure there was nothing Legolas could use to hurt himself even accidentally. He was clearly very agitated and upset. Turning his attention back the Healer tried to meet his eyes to ground him.  
“ I do not understand,” the archer murmured.  
“What, Legolas?” Elrond asked, gently, “What do you not understand?”  
Legolas looked miserably at him, “Why it will not wash off.” Elrond blinked.  
“What will not wash off?” Legolas looked away, a few tears running down his cheeks.  
“All of the dirt, the filth. I want it all off. All of it off.” Elrond sighed. Reaching up for a towel, he placed it gently on the younger elf’s shoulders.  
“Legolas, listen to me; it is all gone. You have washed it all away.” He shook his head frantically.  
“I still feel it. It is not gone.” Knowing that there was little he could say, Elrond simply reached out to embrace the younger one, holding him like he would one of his own frightened children.  
“I want it all off,” Legolas repeated quietly, into Elrond’s shoulder.  
“You still feel it because your hurt is so near,” the healer murmured, “But you are clean, child. It is all gone, now. Let us go back to your room so you can rest.” With one hand around him and the other holding the towel in front of him like the clasp on a cloak, Elrond led the younger elf out Galadriel smiling sadly as they passed.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deals with PTSD, not that much, though. More than I do, anyways.   
> I also really want to thank everyone, especially Roselightfairy, for your kind words. I really appreciate reviews in general but as the last few chapters were very personal, it was especially great to know that people were reading/caring. :)

**Two days later** , Gimli had still not managed to sleep more than an hour or so at a time. Elrond knocked gently on his door.  He allowed the Healer in hoping desperately he would finally be given news about his friend. 

“ You may see him now, if you wish or he has been able to get some sleep but please know, Gimli,  he is still a bit agitated and you might not be able to stay for very long.” Anxiously, Gimli followed Elrond out and into one of the small private quarters in the healing wing where Legolas was still staying. Before opening the door, however, Elrond paused again. 

“You should also know, Gimli,” Elrond said carefully, “That Legolas was very upset a few days ago and he cut his hair. He is much calmer now but I feel I should warn you, he still feels quite shamed about it.” Gimli nodded, understanding the warning, but also not really caring. He just wanted to see the elf. 

The door was opened and Gimli couldn’t help but smile, albeit very sadly, seeing his friend, still looking drawn and pale, sitting up in bed, anxiously awaiting his visitors. 

“I will return in a few minutes,” said Elrond quietly and left, shutting the door softly behind him. Gimli rushed over to sit in the chair next to the elf’s bedside. Legolas gave a small smile. 

“Gimli. I have missed you.” 

The dwarf closed his eyes. “I know, Lad. I missed you too. I thought you would not wish to see me.” Eyes closed, Legolas shook his head. 

“I am glad to see you.” 

“I am glad to see you, too. You look exhausted, though.”

“So do you,” Legolas murmured, “You have not slept for quite some time. I hear it in your voice.”

Gimli laughed gruffly, “You are not wrong. I have been worried about you. I think I’ll sleep better now.”

“And I you,” said Legolas, “I do not wish for you…” he trailed off. 

“What?”   
“Nay, I can not speak of it, now.” Gimli nodded, thinking he knew at least partly what Legolas was going to bring up. 

“That’s alright, Legolas. You get some rest now, understand?”

“You as well.”

“I will,” said Gimli standing up and going over to the couch on the other side of the room where he settled down.

“You will stay?” Legolas asked.

“If that is alright,” said Gimli, “I don’t have to.”

“No. Stay,” said Legolas sleepily. 

“I will if Lord Elrond lets me,” promised Gimli pulling the folded quilt over himself, gazing once more at his dear friend, on the verge of what he hoped would be a peaceful sleep.

“Gimli?” the elf’s quiet voice brushed up against Gimli’s impending sleep and the dwarf couldn’t help but smile to himself reminded of their many back and forths on their journey and in Imladris before everything had happened.

“Yes, Legolas?”

“Know I do not blame you. For anything.”

“I know, Lad. And I can’t tell you how much that comforts me, even if I still feel quite guilty about… it.”

“Goodnight, Gimli.”

It was early afternoon, clearly the elf was still a bit disoriented, but Gimli certainly wasn’t going to interrupt their moment of peace with such a pointless correction. 

“Goodnight, Legolas.”

They both were able to sleep, on and off, until the next morning. When Gimli awoke, Legolas was already up, pacing back and forth in front of the large window. The dwarf was immediately a bit concerned as Legolas only ever paced when he was anxious or upset. 

“What is it, Lad?” he asked, sleepily. 

“I wish to go outside,” the elf answered. Gimli sighed. He had, actually, been waiting for this. Being ill, slightly feverish, and traumatized would do nothing to curb the woodelf’s desire for the fresh air and green earth.

“I know, Legolas, but you must rest for awhile longer.” The elf tossed his head back, clearly agitated. 

“But Gimli! It is sunny out.”  _ Oh Mahal  _ the dwarf thought. Legolas was in one of  _ those  _ moods. Childish, stubborn, and practically impossible to get to settle. Normally, it was only a bit of a hindrance but now, when the elf was still ill and supposed to remain in bed or at least in a place of rest, Gimli knew this would be a long day. 

“I know it is, Legolas, but you need to rest,” Gimli repeated earning a groan from the agitated elf who promptly let himself drop backwards onto the bed. Gimli leapt up in alarm though he knew Legolas was alright. 

“Why don’t I open the window?” Gimli suggested carefully. Legolas said something, muffled under the sheet he had pulled around himself, “What was that?” 

“No. Stay.” 

Gimli sat down on the bed next to the blanket covered elf. Despite his friend’s comment, the dwarf was still careful not to get too close to him. He knew Legolas was in a vulnerable place and did not want to make things worse by touching or crowding him. 

“What are you doing?” he asked softly, as if he spoke to a child, “Legolas?” 

“I am afraid, Gimli,” the elf spoke softly.

“What are you afraid of, Lad?”

“I do not want him to find us again.” 

Gimli sighed, “He won’t. I promise. I don’t know what the Lady and Gandalf did but they won’t let him near us ever again.”

Legolas made a disbelieving chirp like an angry bird.


End file.
